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She shoves her chair back. “Frame you? Is that where you’re going with this? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I found her body. I lied about that because I panicked. I was summoned to breakfast by the killer, who was using your mom’s phone and pretending to be her.

When I arrived, the door was ajar. I walked in and found her, and before I could report it, the hotel staff arrived.

I hid in the closet because I was about to be discovered at a murder scene holding the victim’s phone. ”

“So you do have her phone. Which you just happened to be holding after finding her body… instead of calling the cops.”

“I was confirming that she’d sent me those texts because I was freaking out. Yes, I should have called the police first, but at the time, all I could think was that I’d been summoned to a murder scene.”

“I’d like her phone back.”

“And I would like to stay out of prison.” I take out my old cell phone, open my messages and pass it over. “This is our conversation thread. You can see her asking to switch to breakfast – and why – and me agreeing. Then you can see me texting from inside her room, saying the door was left open.”

She reads the texts. Then she scrolls up, as if making sure this is part of the thread where I definitely had been speaking to Isabella earlier.

“I’m telling you my story,” I say, “knowing that when I leave, you might contact the police and pass all this along, including the fact that I lied to them and fled the scene of a crime. I won’t ask you not to.

There’s isn’t a nondisclosure agreement on this conversation, Tiana.

I made a mistake, one that I couldn’t figure out how to undo. I still can’t.”

“You’re digging yourself into a hole. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“Of course I realize that. But from where I stand, I’m not digging a hole.

I’m sliding down a slope into a fiery pit, and at any moment, I can decide to fling myself into that pit, and I’ll be exactly where I would have been if I let the hotel staff find me at your mother’s murder scene.

I’m scrabbling up this slope, and I’m still slipping, but I’m not ready to jump to my doom. ”

She keeps looking at the phone. At those messages.

“A lawyer could help–” she begins.

“I tried that Monday morning. My mother found me one – and only one – lawyer who would agree to represent me, and I walked into his building to overhear him talking to the police with media there to televise my arrest.”

Her head shoots up. “He can’t do that.”

“Well, he did, and I’m past the point – long past it – of e xpecting anyone to act fairly. If you doubt the veracity of those texts, contact your mother’s phone company and get her records. I’d be surprised if the police haven’t done that already.”

“But you’re saying her killer was in the suite with her body, texting you. That makes no sense.”

“Was her account connected to any other devices? A laptop? A tablet? A smartwatch?”

“Her tablet is missing, too. It was connected to her account, so she could answer texts on it.” She looks at me. “Whoever sent these used her tablet. Can that be tracked? The device identified?”

“Hopefully. Presumably.”

She looks from the phone to me. Then she hands it back and says, “You need to leave.”

“No lunch, then, huh?” I say with a wry smile. “Can I at least take it to go? The dining options of a fugitive are terribly limited.”

She doesn’t return my smile, and I falter. I’m not thrilled by the abrupt dismissal, but I understand she has what she wanted. I expect, though, that she’ll have the grace to joke back and say yes, take a doggie bag.

Instead, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a wad of bills. “Take–”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “I was joking. I don’t need your food, Tiana, and I definitely don’t need your money. You could have just skipped the whole fake-lunch invitation and said you wanted to talk.”

“Please, take this,” she says. “You just – you need to go. Now.”

I glance at the money… and her trembling hand.

“You called the police,” I say slowly as realization hits. “You called them before I even arrived.”

“I…” She swallows, and in her face, I’m reminded of those rare moments when her mature veneer would crack and I’d see the ten-year-old beneath.

She straightens. “Karla was right. She told me not to turn you in, and I… I reminded her who paid her salary. Damn it, I don’t ever learn.” A sharp intake of breath as she shakes her head. “No time for that. I made a mistake, and I can’t fix it now. Just go, Lucy. Quickly.”

“You called me here to talk,” I say. “You said you wanted to listen to me, and you summoned the police before I could say a word. Then you told me I should trust the process. Trust that people will listen to my story before they decide my fate.” I look her square in the eye. “You didn’t.”

Her mouth opens, but I’m already sweeping past.

“Goodbye, Tiana,” I say. “I hoped for better from you. I really did.”

I leave her, standing in that room, money still outstretched as I clamber down the stairs.